


Studious

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: During a bath in the river, Gladio suggests a break.





	Studious

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The all-purpose soap he’s purchased from the last outpost’s gas station is nowhere near what he’s used to, and his own two hands have nothing on the palace’s washing facilities. But his own two hands and the single bar of grubby soap are all he has, so Ignis makes do. While Noctis and Prompto splash about around the bend of the slow-moving stream, Ignis scrubs away at his prince’s discarded shirt. The smell it emits isn’t exactly _atrocious_ yet, but it’s far worse than the standards Ignis would like to set. He does his best.

Heavy footsteps lumber towards him, and Ignis guesses that Gladiolus is finally finished with his meal. Ignis pointedly keeps his eyes on his work—Gladio, like the other two, seems to have no trouble forgoing even underwear. Technically, they _are_ bathing, but Ignis prefers to keep some modesty. He keeps his gaze lowered as the water stirs next to him—much closer than he would’ve thought, and Gladio’s thick frame slips into his peripherals. 

There’s an underwater shelf of smoothed rock that Ignis is seated on, keeping the water level halfway up his chest, and Gladio sidles onto it. He shifts closer, closer, until his broad bicep is all Ignis can pay attention to. By now, he knows each little dip and curve of Gladio’s elaborate tattoos like the back of his own hand. He tries not to picture them, not to put the whole scene together. He turns the soggy fabric over and begins on the other side. 

“Dinner was great,” Gladio offers, and Ignis catches the slow drag of his tongue along his lips. 

Ignis evenly returns, “Evidently, if it took you so long to finish.”

Gladio snorts, then chides, “I wouldn’t eat so much if you didn’t make it so delicious.”

Ignis makes a short murmur of acknowledgement and privately treasures the compliment. He knows Gladio is a big man that needs plenty of food, and in a way, he’s the most rewarding to serve, even if Ignis did pick up the habit solely for Noctis’ benefit. Gladio is the one that lets out a contented sigh and leans back against the rocks, like he’s never been so thoroughly _satisfied._

For the sake of his concentration and general propriety, Ignis hopes that’s the end of the conversation, at least while the two of them are basically naked. But Gladio only lets half a minute pass before he asks, “Isn’t it enough that you cook and drive? Do you have to work even while you’re bathing?”

If Ignis doesn’t do the laundry, it’s likely none of them will. Ignis calmly replies, “I believe in multitasking.” Gladio snorts.

“You need to relax sometime, Specs.”

Their long drives in the Regalia are more than enough of a break, and Ignis _couldn’t_ rest anyway knowing there were chores to be done. He finishes up with Noctis’ shirt and finally turns his full attention to Gladio, looking over with every intention of explaining his position.

But when Ignis is actually looking directly at Gladio, utterly bare through the clear water, his warm skin flushed under the evening sun and glistening with water, the words die in Ignis’ throat. He couldn’t form a full sentence if he wanted to, which is so wholly unlike him that it stalls him even longer. 

He means to recover and resume his usual quiet surety, but Gladio moves first. He picks the shirt right out of Ignis’ hands, setting it back next to the pile of still-dry clothes atop the rocky shore. Then Gladio is reaching out again, and his hands close around the arms of Ignis’ glasses. They’re deftly plucked right off his face and set gently atop the clothing heap. The blurriness that returns to Ignis’ vision doesn’t at all diminish Gladio’ pull. Gladio shifts just that fraction closer, so that their legs are brushing beneath the water, and goose bumps trail up Ignis’ inner thigh.

Gladio offers in a low growl that may as well be a purr, “How about I help out by washing _you._ ”

Ignis’ heart hammers against his chest at an almost frightening speed. Despite the water lapping at his body, his mouth goes dry. Somehow, he manages a cool: “My, you’ve certainly gotten more forward.”

Gladio actually frowns, if only minutely. He tells Ignis, “There’s no reason not to be. Our lives may as well just be the four of us now, and I think we’ve all suffered enough without condemning ourselves to loneliness by standing on ceremony.” 

He makes a good, serious point that Ignis carefully weighs. It’s not how he thought the two of them would ever come together, but he also thought they’d spend many years working in the palace, never seeing one another so thoroughly out of uniform. Then Gladio stretches out his arm, blanketing the shelf behind Ignis, letting his smooth skin drag across Ignis’ slender back. A shiver winds down his spine, the slight contact upping the stakes tremendously.

Finally, Ignis makes the only sensible decision. He announces, “Very well. But we’ll have to be quick and quiet; I won’t have us traumatizing Noct.”

Unexpectedly, Gladio flushes a deep shade of red. He mutters, “Quick and...? I didn’t mean—not right now—I, uh...” But he sort of trails off, leaving Ignis to infer the issue.

His own cheeks are heating fast. He should’ve known Gladio wasn’t moving _that_ fast. He moves to push his glass up his nose, wanting to both stall and look away, but realizes too late that Gladio’s already taken them. Clearing his throat instead, he corrects, “In that case—”

“No, I’ll be quiet,” Gladio hurriedly interrupts, then adds in a tone of purred amusement, “And I’ve wanted you for so long that I don’t think I’ll last that long on the first round anyway.” 

_The first round_. Ignis is already tilting his face by the time that Gladio leans in. He melts into the fervent kiss he’s given, one that quickly deepens, made easier by his restrained moan. Gladio slips inside like he’s had all the practice in the world, and in Ignis’ dormant fantasies, he has. 

Ignis wraps his arms around Gladio’s massive shoulders and succumbs to his own pleasure, while Gladiolus grins in victory.


End file.
